Dearest Delia
by UntilChristmas
Summary: Patsy writes Delia a letter a week to deal with her grief. Takes place after the series 4 finale.
1. Chapter 1

_Dearest Delia,_

_My heart is in two pieces. I still feel the love that radiated from you every day, from your smile, your touch, even though it seemed that we were destined to drift along in this world. I remember, what felt like moments ago, how the sunlight strained through that dusty window, shining on your fringe, your cheek. It was as if you wore a halo and I was in the presence of an angel._

_And the other half… the other half dwells in the truth. The truth I always felt, that you and I could never be, even if we strove and comforted ourselves with every stolen smile. I always feared in this cold world of losing you, always in the back of my mind, but I never thought it would be so literal. The ice that pierced my heart when I received the news left me numb. Alone. I don't think I will be whole again._

_You mother suggested I write perhaps, but what good could a few scratches on a sheaf of paper do to express… anything. You no longer know me and that is worse than losing you completely to a motorist's carelessness. Because you are there and yet not. And you are more alone than you will ever know._

_The flat, our moment in the sun, will remain just that, a testament to what we deserve. One day you will have those yellow walls, that china. Perhaps._

_I shall endeavor to write you once a day in some fleeting school girl hope that you should recover or perhaps understand what happened. I will never forget you and I will never stop loving you. It could be, by some holiday miracle, you will be well enough and I will see you again at Christmas. My past has taught me that hope is a silly thing, but my time at Nonnatus has taught me that miracles can happen. Again, perhaps__._

_Until we met again, forever yours_  
_-Pats_

Wiping away a hidden tear, Patience Mount dates and seals her letter before secreting it under her pillow and switching off the bedside light. Her deep sigh does not escape the notice of her snoozing roommate, but the weight it holds is something only Patsy can bear.


	2. Chapter 2

_Dearest Delia, _

_Last night I had a dream. We were on the pier, overlooking the setting sun. It seemed so real I could almost taste the air sweeping up to meet our faces. You and I, for some reason or another, were wearing these spotty dresses. I don't recall you owning such a dress, but it suited you. It was bright, cheerful, joyful. I don't remember what we talked about, but I remember what I felt, your warmth, your presence. I know that we laughed and I know that we smiled._

_I awoke with such a start it was lucky that Trixie was out delivering Mrs. Hanson's twins or I fear I would have to explain myself. In the darkness I reached out and thought you would be there. But there was nothing in the darkness. I don't know how I will carry on but I must, though it feels like a betrayal to move along in this world. I hold in my heart the hope that one day we will meet on that pier, spotty dresses or not._

_Our time together seems almost like a dream, a wonderful bright glimpse into true happiness. I often turn our moments together over and over in my head, wishing I had said more, done more. This past week as been more than I can bear. You made me feel love, not only for you but for us and for myself. You made my rawest parts of feel right. Accepted._

_I hope you are well, no I pray you are well, and I wonder what you are doing at this moment. When we were together, it was you who was strong, fearless. I hope you have no fear._

_Until another day,_

_-Pats_

Neatly folding the letter, Patsy seals the envelope before stiffening, checking that no one was wandering the halls in need of the lavatory. Pulling her memory box from under her bed, Patsy carefully tucks this newest note next to the first.


	3. Chapter 3

_Dearest Delia,_

_The Cubs miss you so. It was difficult explaining that you would not be coming back in a way they could understand, but was most difficult was understanding the realization myself. Why did I lend you my bicycle that day? I play that last day over and over in my head, struggling to remember every detail. The warmth of your hand, the texture of my scarf as a loop it over your head, your scent wafting towards me. No one I know uses the soap you do and for the life of me I can't remember the name. It was something your mother sent from home. _

_I've been working, perhaps too much, but the only thing that dulls the pain is forgetting. Forgetting for a few hours as I help a new mother bring life into the world, a world that the light has gone out of for me. Suddenly, at the most inopportune times, I remember that I can no longer see your face. I realized today that I have no photographs of the two of us. I worry that you are fading from me, that everything thing we had was a beautiful dream. In a sense that might be better for both of us, but I don't think it right._

Patsy paused a moment, resting the pen to her lips.

_I think often of Wales. I smile and imagine fine weather for you since you loved being out of doors. Perhaps there are flowers at your home, perhaps there is more than the steel and cold of Popular's streets, the grime that coats everything, including my heart._

"Patsy, come down for supper, you haven't eaten since returning from Mrs. O'Connor's house call". As quickly as it appeared, Trixie's head vanished from the door frame. The blonde had been giving Patsy a large amount of private time in the room, sensing the heaviness in the air whenever the nurse brought out her pen and paper.

_Come back to me, my Delia, come back. If only for a moment, if only to say good-bye. Looking into your eyes and seeing nothing and knowing that was our last is too much to bear. Come back._

_All my love,_

_Pats_

Another evening, another letter. Sealing it to secret away, Patsy muses briefly at getting another box. No, that was for later. For now, these thoughts and prayers would stay safe will all the other memories she holds dear.


	4. Chapter 4

_Dearest Delia,_

_As best as I have tried, I've been unable to avoid it any longer. My rota has brought me back to the place I associate most with you. The smells and sounds of the hospital hit me like a crashing wave as I passed through its doors, bringing back memories of our first meeting. Will you remember that someday? Had I known what was in store, would I have stopped you in the corridor so long ago? Yes, a thousand times yes, for the pain and loss are nothing compared to a life that never knew you. _

_I struggle to keep up appearances, more now than ever before. No one must know because no one can understand or care of what you meant to me. What you mean to me. No one is an island and yet one can't help but feeling adrift, lost in a world that doesn't understand. I hold on to the hope that one day things will be better for people like you and I, that the future will be a brighter place. _

_I saw an old poster for the square dance today among the other bulletins. It was hidden under hundreds of notices, posts for lost items, schedules. It wasn't that long ago, but with all that happened it feels like an eternity. And that is how I live my life now, by a schedule, going through the motions. I remember dancing, the only dancing we may ever have and had to excuse myself to the ladies. I must be braver, for you. _

_Tonight, I shall put on some music. You left a few records at Nonnatus the last time you visited, I suppose I must return them eventually. Trixie has some mysterious business or meeting to attend to and shan't be back for a while. So, for a few fleeting hours, I think I will dance in my head and remember our happy moments together._

_Please be safe,_

_Pats_

Pulling the newly acquired shoebox from under her bed, Patsy careful tucks her latest missive out of sight, rearranging the tidily folded square dance poster in the process. "Good memories," Patsy mutters, before sliding the box back into place.


	5. Chapter 5

_Dearest Delia,_

_It's been a month. _

_Had a difficult birth today. Out of habit or in a daze, I made my way to where the nurse's home stood before realizing what I had done. I must have stood outside in the chill for a half an hour before bottling up enough courage to return to Nonnatus. What have I done? Why didn't I tell you what you meant to me more often? Why did I doubt and hide whenever you reached out, frightened that someone would see. Hang all of them, it would be worth it for a few more moments with your hand in mine._

_Sister Evangelina has questioned my request for extra shifts, but has made no comment other than to desire punctuality. I value punctuality more now than ever._

Trixie shift ever so slightly in her bed. The blonde has become accustomed to the late night writing her roommate indulges in and no longer finds the scratching of pen on paper as alarming. Patsy came home later than usual that night, blaming her tardiness on a breech birth, but Trixie knew better. The stillness that had grown a part of Pasty's nature now was more pronounced tonight. Trixie wasn't blind, but knew that some things best be left alone, at least for now. She had seen it in her father, all those years ago, the look of one who is lost. Trixie quietly slid her hand under the pillow, where a coin celebrating one month into her own healing process was hidden. Her fingers brushed it lightly, closing over the cool shape before drifting off to sleep.

_I become so frustrated when I think that you are right there, that you are only in Wales. You're not dead, but it seems that you are worlds away. I feel the memory of you, of what we had, slipping through my fingers. I don't want to remember because it hurts, but I can't bear not thinking of you. Loving you. You are right there and yet you are beyond my grasp. I hope that you are happy, that you are recovering. I hope that you smile, even if it's not for me._

_Lovingly yours,_

_Pats_

Sealing this newest envelope, Patsy hides it away. Stepping before the mirror, she hides much more, sliding the mask of indifference into place before stepping out into the hall. There are babies to care for, mothers to comfort. If no one is able to that for her, Patsy must at least show someone she is cared for.


	6. Chapter 6

_Damn it all to hell._

Perched on an old rickety stool in the Nonnatus lavatory, Patsy clutches a few crumpled sheets of paper hastily fished out of her bedside table, frantically tapping a pen against her knee. The midwife has not stopped shaking yet, letting out quiet gasps as tears slowly dry on her flushed cheeks.

_I had a nightmare tonight. I hope the sisters are more sound sleepers than Trixie. She still goes to her secretive meetings, but who am I to begrudge someone that. Trixie woke as I did, to the sounds of my sobs. I don't know how I will explain this away. The dream is fading slowly, now only a flash of jumbled images and emotions. It's better I don't try to recall it, though the weight in my chest that this dream brought about is something I don't think I will ever forget. _

_I would give anything in the world just to hear your voice say my name one more time. But more than that, to hear love in your voice as you said it._

_I had to write, to pour every raw feeling into these letters as it is the only place for them to go. You may never read these letters, but I can pretend that you will. I wonder, what would you think of Fred getting wedged in the window of Sister Julienne's office the other day while repairing a broken pane? Or what of Sister Monica Joan secreting cake to the latest rounds of clinics, delivering sticky treats to the children playing as their new brothers and sisters received their vaccinations?_

_More than anything I want the mundane, I want how it was between us. I want to hear about your day. I want to know what made you laugh and what made you weep. I want to joke with you about the new male surgeons, to be there for you when a patient takes a nasty turn. I want to know you once more._

Patsy pauses.

_Emptiness is a feeling that one doesn't get used to, we just fill it up with something else. I find now more than ever that I can't possibly find anything to fill the void that is you._

_I love you,_

_Pats_

The paper has become damp, the writing a scrawl brought on by speed and passion. Patsy scrunches her letter into a ball, trembling with the effort to stay silent, angrily brushing away her tears with her knuckles. Several moments pass before there is a slow exhalation, the midwife relaxing long enough to breathe.

As Patsy slowly unclenches her fists, she realizes how mangled her latest note has become and smoothes out her writing. Despite the war-torn appearance, Patsy takes care to fold the letter in a manner suited for posting, smudged ink and all, before rising on shaking legs. The midwife avoids glancing in the lavatory mirror as she moves to the door, switching off the light and slowly making her way back to bed.


	7. Chapter 7

_Dearest Delia, _

_Today there was a nasty accident at the clinic involving a crate of orange juice and an errant football. Glass and pulp everywhere, heavens it took forever to clear up, though I could have done without Nurse Crane tutting every so often about the "wild heart of the youth of Popular"._

Patsy stops writing, staring off into the distance. Outside, the laughter of children playing in the street, the low hum of Popular's beating heart floating up through her window. Life continued to trudge on.

_I can't pretend that everything in life in normal, not so soon. I can't pretend that this letter is just a simple "how was your day", that you are on holiday somewhere and will come back to me. It would be kinder to stop writing, to close myself off to the world. But knowing you, loving you… it showed me that I can unsheathe my heart. And I find myself a million times a day thinking of things I want to tell you. Simple facts about my day. But I know you won't know. And I know you can't care. I have resigned myself that things will never be as they were._

Patsy pauses again. She doesn't cry much anymore, not like she used to. Not that she let anyone see that side of her anyway. That behavior was reserved for the most solitary of hours when she was alone with her thoughts. A feeling has come over the midwife in the past few days, not a numbness or an emptiness. It was hard for her to describe and even harder for her to understand. She had been young, too young, when she lost her family. This didn't feel like that.

_And yet I still write._

_Hope lingers on, as does love. I cherish what we had and the only way I know to make it remain real is to write. You are a treasure and you deserve all the happiness you can have. And perhaps…perhaps if that means I never post these letters, if it means that for you, we never were, then so be it. But I cannot live that way. Our love is a thing that I will cup to my chest and nurture for the rest of my life. You wanted to get married_

The midwife abruptly slides the page away, too overcome to finish her sentence. What was she thinking, what would she have said? The one brightness in the lonely jumble of her life was gone, its only preservation being the bulging box of letters under her bed. Drawing in a deep breath, Patsy squares her shoulders. It was up to her to keep that alive. This wouldn't be the end.

_You wanted to get married__ One day, we could get married._

_Love eternal,_

_Pats_


	8. Chapter 8

_Dear Nurse Mount,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. I know you were concerned with my dear Delia's recovery, but I'm afraid she won't be returning to Popular any time soon. The seizures have stopped, thank the Lord, but my daughter still has no recollection of most of her past. Please tell the Cubs we are sorry Delia won't be returning. We have a long road ahead of us and the comfort and care of our daughter comes first._

_Despite this, I am thankful every day that she is still with us on this earth._

_Cordially,_

_Mrs. E. Busby_

It was such a short, clipped note. Impersonal. In spite of that, Patsy was grateful to have it. Her heart had stopped in her chest when she recognized the return address as Sister Mary Cynthia had handed her the envelope. It was as if her insides had been drenched in ice water and it took all the strength the red head had cultivated through her hard life to keep a stony face. The fleeting hope had faded as quickly as it had taken Patsy to read those sparse sentences.

However, a faint smile had grown on Patsy's lips as her finger tips trace the final line printed on the bright blue stationary. "So am I", she whispers.

Sister Mary Cynthia and Trixie both pause at the foot of the staircase. "Do you suppose one of us should go up there?" the novice softly asks, wrapping her hand around the smooth polished banister as the pair watch Patsy Mount retreat slowly up the stairs. Trixie lays a hand on Sister Cynthia's arm. Despite her roommate's careful discretion, Trixie has come to know more about Patsy than the latter could imagine. It can't be seen with the naked eye but a sadness has hung in their shared room for the past few weeks, a heaviness in the air that signified something more than friendship lost.

"No, let her be for now". Trixie listens for the familiar sound of their bedroom door closing. "I believe she knows what is best".


	9. Chapter 9

_Dearest Delia,_

_My heart aches in a way I have never known before. I know that you are well, your mother sent a letter, but I feel as if I am shouting into the dark, that I am trying to beat down a brick wall with empty fists every time I write. When I smile, it seems hollow. I don't know what to do. Trixie has been asking after you. I think she is concerned on my behalf as well for she removed those ever present bottles from our room. Not that it would help. I admit that some nights I take a drink to calm my nerves, but it only proves to carve a deeper hollow in my heart._

_Fred has mended my bicycle weeks ago. For the longest time I haven't used it. Nurse Crane has been very obliging with dropping me off in her automobile while she could as the bicycle was being repaired and I've just let her carry on a bit longer._

_You're not dead, but you are gone. I miss your laugh, the steel in your voice when you stood up for us. I've been thinking more and more about the day we met, so long ago. How I never could have predicted the wonderful things to come. I was still doing sillly things to my hair back then, that's something to remember!_

Patsy smiles to herself, then frowns.

_I mustn't be so flippant, but thinking of those early days brings back a carefree lightness that I always thought out of my grasp, a light that now dwells at the edges of my heart._

_I wish you nothing but the sweetest of dreams, my love._

_Pats_

_Mrs. Busby,_

_It's regrettable to hear that Delia will not be returning to Popular despite the improvement of her condition. _

_I trust that despite all that has happened you are well._

_Please give Delia my best._

_Sincerely, _

_Patience Mount_

Somewhere in Wales, Delia Busby wakes with a start and stares at the wall, the late afternoon sunshine flickering through the curtains of her childhood room, painting it entirely with a warm light. The trees outside whisper in a cool breeze as the former nurse listens, collecting herself. The days have been growing clearer, but the fog has not entirely lifted. Sometimes she wakes and does not know where she is. She cries. These have been lonely days. Her dreams are haunted with ghosts she has no names for. The scent of Pamolive and bleach seem to mysteriously hang in the air. Shadows, larger than she, stand out of focus. But in her heart Delia knows they mean her no harm. There's music and cheer in these dreams, but as soon as the former nurse wakes, it's gone, like a snowflake disappearing in a warm palm.

Wandering into the parlour, Delia sees her mother, yes that's right, she remembers this face now, sorting through envelopes.

Mrs. Busby looks up and smiles. "Now dear, doctor's orders. Back to bed with you. It was only the post"


	10. Chapter 10

_Dearest Delia, _

_Look, new stationary! I picked yellow over the pink, it seemed to be the right choice. It_

Patsy takes a drag from her cigarette, long enough that the ash falls on the paper. Cursing under her breath, the nurse hastily stubs out the cigarette and tries to wipe away the soot, only to smear it and the ink across the page. Staring at what was left of the beautiful stationary, a gift from one of the many new mothers in her care, Patsy could feel her stomach begin to tie itself in the most intricate of sailor's knots. The bright, sunny paper was now bruised, smudged, beyond repair. It was a lost cause. Why should such a simple thing upset her so much?

The mask Pasty Mount wore most days slowly began to slide away. It was as if the curtain has been drawn across her face, the light fading from her eyes, like the street lamps outside her window fading as the cold brightness of dawn crept upon them. Patsy had grown very familiar with sunrises. Sometimes the comfort of sleep, of forgetting for a few hours, wasn't enough. She often lay in bed, watching the skies grow brighter, listening as Popular sleepily came to life outside her room as the pit of her stomach sinks lower, remembering what had happened.

Patsy often wondered if Delia did the same, if she watched the dark blues and blacks of the night wash away from her walls inch by inch, growing grey, then pink, then orange. She wondered if sunrise would have looked a bit brighter in that small apartment they were to share, if the two of them would lay together and greet the morning, if that quiet light would hold less steel and more sunshine.

The midwife felt silly being so utterly wrapped up in this way, but the truth was she was alone. She had never met anyone with the same… preferences as herself, and to be bitterly honest, she wasn't sure she would want to meet others. It wasn't that Delia preferred what she did, it was that Delia understood and preferred _her, _no one else ever has. Patsy was so unsure that she could trust anyone as she did her dear sweet Delia that she chose to close herself off. It is the ultimate cruelness when the one person you trust falls away from you. It wasn't Delia's fault, in fact Patsy had begun to blame herself more and more.

_I love you_

Patsy sighed as she scribbled these words through the smudges on the page. There would be no letter writing tonight and she would have to be careful to dispose of this attempt should prying eyes see her true feelings.

"I can't live like this" Patsy whispered to herself "I mustn't".


	11. Chapter 11

_Dearest Delia, _

_Look at the wonderful new stationary I've procured. I hope you enjoy the yellow. I apologize that this letter is later than normal. Yes I am still writing these as if you will someday read them, though the chances of that are slim beyond measure. I miss you, I can't express that enough. Whatever it was I did, what deity I disrespected to tear you away, I repent. _

_Trixie is_

Patsy stole a look over at her roommate, demurely sitting in bed, a fashion magazine in one hand, cigarette in the other. Trixie was not a fool, she had noticed Patsy spending more and more time in her evenings scratching away at something, body turned slightly away from their mutual nightstand. Sometimes she could feel the blonde's eyes upon her, as if she was trying to read Patsy's mind.

_Trixie is well. She had been having some troubles, but has found a solution and is working through them. I've promised her I'd be discrete._

The truth was a restless Patsy had been taking a walk one night to clear her head. The weight of everything that happened suddenly crashed down upon the redhead, so a constitutional was in order. It was that or explain to Sister Evangelina why packing home delivery kits has suddenly struck her as an emotional task.

Rounding the corner near the community center, Pasty saw a familiar slim figure leaving. As Patsy approached, it dawned on her what meeting was taking place on Wednesdays at 8 o'clock in the evening, but before she could duck out of the way, Trixie met her eye. They both froze, the blonde bathed in the light pouring out from the door of the community center, the redhead in the shadowy street. The two were alone, silent for a full minute as Patsy cursed the tears that were still streaming down her face before Trixie swallowed hard and opened her mouth as if to explain. Before a single word could come out, Patsy turned on her heel and hurried away.

_We all have our secrets, Delia dear, and we all deserve to know they will be safe. I trust you are gaining strength back with each day. I long to hear any news from you and yours._

_Always and forever, _

_Pats_


	12. Chapter 12

_Dearest Delia, _

_I forgot to write yesterday. It hit me all at once as I was making my home visits and I'm not sure what to make of this. Today was the first day that you being gone was not my first waking thought. And that frightened me._

_ Perhaps it means that I am finally healing, that all that will be left of our happy days are scars. Or memories. Do you recall when we first met? It seems so long ago, back when I first was first starting out._

Patsy laid down her pen and listened as the record in her player switched over to a new tune, lost in a memory...

Nurse Mount was never one for unwarned nonsense. Perhaps that's why she found comfort it the cold walls and sterile corridors of a hospital. A place of healing, of new life. But also of loss. And a damn confusing one for such a green nurse. Risking a jog down the hall, already late for her rounds, Pasty was more frustrated with herself than the stubborn, muted architecture. She was better than this, it had been a week since she began her duties and she should know the layout of the hospital like the back of her hand already.

Turning a corner rather sharply, Patsy collided with one of the more sour surgeons, already in a fool mood himself. Papers fluttered to the floor as the nurse stammered an apology, her face bright red at the mess she had made. "See that you take more care in the future, Nurse…" "Mount, "Patsy supplied gathering up the documents into a messy pile before handing them back to the surgeon. "Yes, well, I would have thought that we employed more than silly girls in such an establishment," the surgeon sniffed, before stalking away, leaving Patsy in the middle of the corridor. "I would have thought they employed more than pompous old walruses too, but there you have it, "Patsy muttered under her breath, straightening her uniform and pushing an errant lock of hair behind her ear.

There was a giggle, barely audible, from behind the nurse and Patsy stiffened. Could her day get any worse? Whipping around, a new apology at the ready, Patsy was caught off guard. Leaning against a door frame, no doubt alerted by the commotion, was a petite brunettewith a sly grin hidden by her hand. Patsy was at a loss for words. Normally Patsy was not without a sharp retort, but here was something about this woman then left her completely unarmed. "Something funny?" Patsy snapped, coming to her senses though still without her bearings. She was already dreadfully late and this mysterious observer was most unwelcome. "No, just admiring your ability to make enemies with the head of surgery within your first week." The brunette causally pushed off the wall, her grin growing wider. "Do you need help finding something? You look a bit adrift". Drawing herself up to her full height, Patsy glared down her nose at the shorter woman. "I think I can manage, thank you all the same."

Patsy turned on her heel and continued down the corridor, hearing a "suit yourself" float down the hall after her. Her accent was like music. Patsy Mount stopped, looking around for a familiar landmark or a least a nameplate on a door. "Damn," she muttered. "Wait…" Patsy reluctantly turned around. The brunette, who halfway in her patient's room, paused. "Wait… can you show me the quickest way to get to the east wing?" The brunette smiled before reaching out. Patsy wasn't quite sure what this nurse wanted until she closed the gap, looping her arm in Patsy's. Something about her touch caused Patsy's heart to flutter. "I'll show you a short cut, if you'd like," the brunette smiled again, softer this time. Patsy breathed a sigh of relief before allowing herself to be dragged away by a woman a head shorter than herself. "Thank you, Nurse…?" Where were her manners, Patsy didn't even think to ask this woman's name.

"Busby. I'm Delia Busby. I'll always be here you if you need it".


	13. Chapter 13

_Dearest Delia, _

_More and more I wish to be alone. The nature of our work, of my work, is to be with others in their greatest need. But at day's end I desire nothing but to be left with my thoughts and memories. I feel guilty taking joy in the conversations during out meals here at Nonnatus, for forgetting just for a while the missing piece in my life. I_

"Patsy…"

The scratching of pen on paper stops as Patsy looks up. She hates to be interrupted in this, her most private of moments during the week, but it was unusual for Trixie to disturb her. Patsy's roommate, ever the chatterbox, had grown accustomed to saving any gossip or news until later when she saw the redhead had a pen in hand.

The silence in the room grew thicker as Trixie stood before Patsy. "Patsy… who do you write to?" The midwife's grip on her pen tighten and Patsy feared it would snap in half from the stress. She could feel her entire body grow cold as steel. How was she to explain she was writing letters to a ghost? How could Trixie understand?

Reaching over to the nightstand and snubbing out her cigarette, Trixie moves to take a seat next to Patsy on the bed. Pasty casually lays her hand across the stationary, concealing her words that have bled from her heart.

Patsy doesn't realize she is crying until a tear drops down on the paper, causing the word "dearest" to swell across the page. "Patsy, I know you saw me the other night. And I've seen you. You go through the motions, you put on a brave face. But this… is something different, isn't it?"

Patience Mount is at the edge of panic. The darkest parts of herself are at the brink of being spilled out. Patsy's pale face raises and her eyes meet Trixie's for the first time, finding the blonde searching, wondering. But there is no judgement there. All Patsy can do is nod.

"We all have struggles Patsy. I can't pretend to understand. But this is important to you." Trixie hesitates. "I trust you with my deepest secret. I hope you feel the same." Rising from the bed, Trixie makes her way to the door. "I think a cup or two of Horlicks is in order" Trixie smiles but her voice cracks despite trying to show nothing has changed. As she leaves, the blonde whispers without turning around "Give her my best regards".

_I know I can survive at Nonnatus, dear Delia. I ache, but I shan't give in. I only wish I could share the real you, to celebrate you as you deserve. Perhaps it is not in my best interest to be so alone though. _

_I shall treasure you always, _

_-Pats_


	14. Chapter 14

_Dearest Delia, _

_Today I was making my rounds, walking my bicycle down a narrow side street, when I heard the most beautiful sound. Your accent, the lilt with which you spoke, something so subtle yet so meaningful to me. I stopped cold and searched everywhere, expecting to see your frame smiling from a doorway, waiting for me. It was as if time had stopped and you had returned, so struck was I at the memories and emotions that came flooding forth. I'm not sure what else I can say about this, I half expected to come across you and your mother shopping on the streets. It was as if I had been slapped in the face and welcomed by an old friend all at once. _

_Sometimes I'm afraid that I am forgetting what your voice sounds like, the nuances growing dimmer and dimmer. I try to remember all our conversations, the profound moments we shared speaking about our past, our understanding of ourselves. And the happier, light-hearted moments, the jokes, the laughter. I do know your laughter; that's a thing I couldn't possibly forget. And yet, I can feel the details sliding away. It frightens me._

_I cannot live in the past, but I know that I must strive the cherish it. If I could have bottled your laughter or captured the way it made your face light up, I would carry it with me always. I feel as if I should have paid more attention, but the logical side of myself, the side that seems to be losing every battle these days, tells me that I would have smothered you. If I could do anything over again it would be to notice more, to understand that moments in life are fleeting, that they are all we have in the end. _

_I dream of careless days of just being in your presence. I hear some of my patients speak with annoyance at their over-bearing husbands, always at their side with concern of the impending birth. I wish I could tell them to savor those moments of having the one you care for most close._

_Until I can hear that beautiful laughter again, _

_-Pats_


	15. Chapter 15

_Dearest Delia, _

_So often I find myself wishing I could share with you the little moments in my day, the ones that bring me joy. I miss your stories from the ambulance brigade, it all seemed so daring. Often in my routine I find small things that remind me of you and this indescribable ache reverberates through my body when I realize why._

_Fetching fresh linens, the smell of bleach and crisp rustle of fabric bring to mind your starched uniforms, so meticulously kept. Fred brought over some flower boxes the other day. It seems he purchased a few too many for Violet. I think what really happened was a result of one of his famous "bargains". Sister Monica Joan has taken them under her wing and they have flourished, blossoming in the window sills of Nonnatus. Sometimes, when the light hits them just right, late in the afternoon, I am reminded of you. You always cared for nature. I recall you preferring to be out of doors more often than I. _

_And then there's the music. The record player gets put through its paces when Trixie is on call, the melodies wafting and winding down the stairs, echoing and sinking into the very fabric of Nonnatus House. I imagine the dances we could have had, how you moved with such grace. it bewitched me. I wonder what it would be like to hold you in my arms and soak in that music together. I would have kept you safe._

_Then I remember that none of this can ever be and that ache burns through me, crashing me back to reality. I am trying to hold on to the good, to imagine silly things like what you must think of Sister Monica Joan having long conversation with her flowers, coaxing them to grow. I think it does work, her flowers are enormous, and in a way this causes me to want to write more. Perhaps I can coax you back, even if my words don't reach you physically. It gives me comfort to remember those things that were uniquely you._

_Missing you every day, _

_-Pats_


	16. Chapter 16

_Dearest Delia, _

_It's rained most of today. In fact, it's been raining for some time. Something about watching the water pour over the window panes is soothing, like my troubles are being washed away with it. Today I am oddly at ease, which feels like a disservice to you. I cannot tear myself into pieces any longer and yet I still cannot let you go. _

_I don't dream so much anymore. I suppose I do dream, I just no longer remember, as if my mind is shielding itself from my heart. I will wake up on any given day and feel the weight of all that has happened and carry that with me throughout the duties. But there are some days that I wake up and for a brief time I'll have forgotten what happened. And then it crashes into me all at once, the emptiness, like a jolt of electricity. Those days are the hardest because for a brief moment I am free, free from the hurt. I almost think you have it better, in a way. I'd like to hope that you wake and can hold on to that freedom, that you don't feel an unexplained sadness. It's kinder that way._

_I wonder if some mornings you wake up sad and don't know why or f you see something and grow upset at the fact that it makes you yearn in a way you possibly can't now. I would rather bear this burden than see you suffer as I have, but in a perfect world I would want to see you again. The real you, to see some recognition flicker in your eyes. That would at least shore up the walls around my heart with a little hope that better days are on the horizon._

_As I've been writing, the rain has stopped, the water on the panes slowed to a trickle, like tears of pity. Perhaps I'll go for a walk and clear my head. Take in the fresh scent of a world reborn after a storm. And think of a day when perhaps our world, your's and mine, can be reborn as well._

_You are forever in my thoughts, _

_-Pats_


	17. Chapter 17

_Dearest Delia, _

_I suppose, for the sake of normalcy, I should tell you of my day._

_Today was another trying meeting with the Cubs. They are such an unruly bunch and yet I do enjoy my time with them. I haven't the sway over them that Chummy has, though Fred helps quite a bit. Sometimes I wonder if he hasn't grown himself, still a boy at heart. _

_Their antics certainly occupy my mind, but today we worked on a first aid badge and one of the boys asked after you. I know a shadow passed over my face as the room became unnaturally still. I've never know the Cubs to be so quiet. All I could bring myself to explain was that you were still away and we didn't know went you'd return. When, not if. I allowed myself that small solace. _

_Timothy Turner, Dr. Turner's son, seemed to try and catch my eye for the rest of the meeting. Luckily Fred offered to walk him home while I stayed and cleaned up the first aid supplies. I don't know what he could have overheard at home, but explaining my mood and why your absence affects me so is a task I do not relish._

_I can only hope that this next generation is kinder than ours, that there needn't be any fear in explaining to a child why one person loves another. I think of that often, how our world is expanding at such a fantastic rate, what would it be like after we are gone? I dream of a world where I could marry you and not have to hide it, that I could walk hand in hand with you and be proud, not ashamed. I dream of acceptance and it seems so far out of our grasp, I don't think it shall ever be seen in our lifetime. But I do have hope when I see these children that they will be kinder than their fathers and more understanding than their mothers. I do also hope one day to share the warmth of that kindness and acceptance with you by my side, even if we have to wait until we are old and gray._

_I pray that one day we can be together again._

_Yours, _

_-Pats_


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